Straight Flushed (Hot Pursuit #1)(12)

Vance took the first left, heading away from the direction of Avery’s neighborhood. Still no one was behind us. After a series of a few more quick turns, minutes past and Vance slowed his driving. I checked on Avery. All the color had left his face, and he had a death grip on his armrest.

“We’re all clear, sir. Try to relax. It’s over. We’ll get you home,” I said.

He nodded, but my words did no good to settle his nerves. I suddenly wished I’d palmed a few extra candies from his secretary’s desk before we’d left.

We approached a stop sign and would have to drive across one of the major roads in the area before heading back onto residential and less populated roads. We advanced, pulling onto the busy street. We needed to go up three blocks until we’d be safely out of sight again. We came to the first street where I thought we would have turned, but Vance drove past it.

“What are you doing? Why didn’t you take that turn?”

“Dead end. It’s the next one.”

He was right, and that was why he was the best.

We almost cleared the second street, and I hadn’t a moment to react before I caught a shadow out of the corner of my eye. The Audi reappeared. The tail end of our bumper was clipped, knocking the car askew. We fishtailed briefly, but Vance regained control easily. He gunned the engine, and we sailed up the road.

“Where the hell did they come from?” Vance said, showing a brief glimpse of irritation.

The tires squealed, and I grabbed onto the handle above the passenger door to keep from hitting my head into the window as he turned onto the street.

“Hang on,” he said. “Some quick turns coming.”

We passed two houses before the Audi slammed into the back of us again, but this time we slid sideways and Vance failed to regain control. The steel frame of our car not-so-gently hugged the mother of all oak trees.

My shoulder and forearm absorbed some of the impact and kept my head from hitting the glass, but my ribs struck something hard. My window splintered but held together like an intricate spider’s web. There was only a split second of silence before Vance’s voice cut in.

“Get on the floor and stay down!” Vance yelled over his shoulder to Avery. Avery reacted instantly, unbuckling himself and curling behind the driver’s seat. He covered his head with his hands. Vance looked over at me. “You too!” He yanked me by my shirt, trying to force me onto the floor while he reached for his gun.

I fended off his gesture with an irritated swipe of my arm; I wasn’t going to cower down on the floor. My door was pinned against the tree, imprisoning me. The only way out would be through Vance’s door. Movement on the street caught my eye. Two men approached us with weapons drawn. Whatever Vance was going to do, he needed to do it now. With no other option, I called 911.

Vance shielded his body with the car’s open door. Shots were fired immediately. Bullets hit the glass, and I watched it fissure into a thousand pointed fingers. I’d never had to actually test how bulletproof the glass was but was relieved to see the windshield held up to the challenge. I relayed the scene to the operator and backup was on the way.

The minutes until they arrived would feel like hours if the gun shots didn’t stop.

“Vance! Shut the door and get in before you get shot!” I yelled.

He fired a couple of rounds as sirens whined in the distance—someone in one of the houses must have dialed the police before I had. The two men retreated into their vehicle. They left a cloud of smoke before they sped off. I climbed back through the front seat to check on Avery.

“Sir, are you okay?” I grabbed his shoulder, encouraging him to sit up, but when he lifted his head, a slow stream of blood trickled off his nose.





Four



I grabbed a package of tissues from the center console and pulled one from the pack. I pressed it to Avery’s forehead. I tried to gauge the depth of the wound but as soon as I lifted the tissue off, it quickly refilled with blood making it difficult to assess.

“It’s okay. It’s only a cut. Do you feel all right?” I asked.

I looked into Avery’s eyes. They always talk about a person’s pupils on medical shows. Avery blinked a few times.

Pupils equal and reactive, I repeated in my head.

“I think I’m okay,” Avery said in a raspy voice. “I hit something.”

The metal handle on the back of the driver’s seat was bent. He must have hit his head on that. I continued to put pressure to the wound, and within moments, the scene was swarmed with police cars and an ambulance.

After looking Avery over on the scene, he was taken to the hospital with Vance by his side. I was taken away in a second ambulance, much to my chagrin. I felt fine, except my shoulder hurt. And my ribs. And maybe I was having the slightest difficulty breathing. But I was fine. The EMTs and Vance insisted I have everything checked. So with my arm pinned across my chest, I texted Gabe. I was going to be a little late for dinner.



. . .



I lay on my gurney, waiting behind my private white curtain. I’d come back from having an X-ray, and the verdict was in: I’d fractured a couple of ribs and a small portion of my lung had collapsed, which explained why it was a challenging to breathe. Thankfully, my shoulder was only bruised. The endorphins from the chase had begun to wear off, and my side ached to high heaven. I concentrated on lying very still. The slightest shift in weight wedged a dull knife deeper inside my chest.